


gotta slow up, gotta shake this high (gotta take a minute just to ease my mind)

by VolxdoSioda



Series: KHR Rarepair Week 2018 (Complete) [6]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Bodyguard/Hitman AU, KHR Rarepair Week 2018, M/M, khrrarepair week: Day 6 [Cloud]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 23:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15278091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Timoteo does not make the same mistakes with Tsuna that he made with his own sons. Tsuna is raised under the watchful eye of the Immortal Skull, where he learns how to keep his wings unclipped and to keep flying no matter what.





	gotta slow up, gotta shake this high (gotta take a minute just to ease my mind)

The first time they introduce him to Skull, Tsuna is ten, and his world has just been shattered. His mother and he had been going to the market what felt like only minutes before, and they’d been laughing. He’d wanted to go for once. It was a chance not to be Dame like his classmates called him. 

 

And then the men in the black car with the suits had pulled up, and his mother’s head had been blown off, her blood spraying across his face and chest. 

 

He doesn’t remember what happened after that. He only knows that his mother is dead, his dad is alive, and wearing a suit like  _ those men,  _ and he has been taken from Japan and told he is going to live in Italy now, in this big mansion with these strange people that all feel cold to him. He has remained silent since his feet have touched ground, even as his father tries to laugh and joke with him.

 

Even bathed and dressed anew, he can still feel the hot spray of blood against his skin, and it burns like a brand. He feels sick all the way down to his bones, feels like he wants to scream and shout and cry and break apart, but everything is being held back by a block of ice. He feels numb on the surface even as his emotions hurl themselves at the wall inside of him. He feels disconnected from reality, like a bad dream that just gets worse.

 

They bring him into a room where Skull is standing, and after a murmured conversation, the men in black beside him turn to him. “He is to be your guardian from now on. You must not leave the premises without him, understand?”

 

“You can rely on him,” the other man says. “He is trustworthy.”

 

And then they leave him alone in the room, cold and burning and trapped in his own head. Him and a man that he has never known, a stranger that could destroy him so very easily, but doesn’t because Clouds are fickle creatures, but they are terribly perceptive.

 

Skull doesn’t reach to touch him, or ask his name, like most adults would. Instead, he sets what Tsuna vaguely recognizes as a motorcycle helmet aside, and slowly crouches down until he’s eye level with Tsuna. It works somewhat to calm the tiny voice in the back of his head that hasn’t stopped screaming since he got here. The movement is enough to catch his attention, and once down in front of him, his appearance is enough to hold it.

 

It’s the fact that Skull doesn’t dress like the other members of the house that makes him stand out. The tattoos are what he sees first, ink spilled in abyssal blacks and elegant purples over his arms and neck and face in the form of tentacles reaching from the depths. His clothes all speak of distance - spikes and hard metal, tough leather, shoes and plates on the shoulders made for taking a hit. His gloves conceal his fingers, but there are heavy metal cuffs on both wrist, each decorated with a sign he doesn’t know.

 

Skull’s face is done up with make-up, and the look makes a shock run through him - it’s a literal  _ skull,  _ done so perfect it almost looks natural. All in all, he looks like Death. In the wake of what’s happened, it’s such an ironic thing to see that Tsuna can’t hold back a breathless little wheeze that manages to escape his throat. 

 

Skull doesn’t say anything for a time, and still doesn’t do anything apart from just crouch there, watching. Eventually, Tsuna’s throat conjures up something to say.

 

“My mother’s dead.”

 

It’s hard thinking the words. But saying them out loud is a beast of a different burden. It feels like sharp glass raking the insides of his throat, steam pouring up his throat to lance his mouth. His stomach churns, his insides tighten. He’s going to be sick.

 

Skull bows his head. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he says at last. And then, something no one else has asked him, “Do you want to go back?”

 

Go back?

 

It’s said so earnestly, but--

 

_ Blood and pain and screaming-- _

 

He can’t go back.

 

_ His mother never stood a chance against a shotgun to the head-- _

_ It was such a quick, violent thing-- _

 

_ What did she do to deserve that-- _

 

Tsuna swallows. And then hiccups. The dam breaks.

 

“I can’t,” he whispers, and then finally, he’s sobbing. “ _ I can’t go back, anymore.” _

 

Skull doesn’t try to hold him. Doesn’t try to comfort him. Doesn’t tell him falsehoods like  _ “It’ll be alright.” _

 

Instead, he holds Tsuna’s gaze, and waits.

 

Later, this is what Tsuna remembers, when people ask him how he met Immortal Skull. How he met the youngest Arcobaleno, and one of the finest Clouds to emerge in well over a century. He doesn’t remember power or prestige or flamboyance. He remembers patience and kindness, and a deep understanding of pain. He remembers being offered freedom, and being given it in a different form of release.

 

And this, above all else, is why at age ten newly orphaned Sawada Tsunayoshi trusts Skull with everything he has left.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Skull bathes him in the aftermath of what amounts to a breakdown; it should be an awkward process, but it isn’t. Maybe because Tsuna just feels tired now, like he needs to sleep for the next hundred years. He lets Skull throw his old clothes into a hamper, and wash his hair and scrub him clean, and then put him in a warm outfit that does nothing to combat the chill inside him.

 

They return to the room, and Skull leaves briefly, returning with food and a drink.

 

“I know its probably not what you’re used to,” Skull says as he places a plate in front of Tsuna. “But it’ll help settle your stomach.”

 

Through the fog Tsuna meekly picks up what looks like a biscuit and begins to nibble on the ends. It’s surprisingly sweet, and he reaches for the drink, which also proves to be sweet. By the second or third sip his head has begun to bob, and his grip on the food has loosened. He feels tired now, like he could fall asleep and stay asleep for a while. 

 

Skull hums. “There we go. I think that’s it for you today, hm?” He takes the plate and the drink before Tsuna can drop either, and then gathers the boy up in his arms. The plates on his shoulder are cool against his cheek, and surprisingly comfortable. Tsuna closes his eyes and lets himself drift off to sleep.

 

It is not a peaceful sleep. He wakes up two hours later crying and sweating, the reminder  _ his mother is dead  _ playing out in his head. He curls up on the bed (too big for him, not  _ his _ bed, he wants  _ his  _ bed) and rocks back and forth as he tries to stay quiet even as he breaks down again.

 

He startles badly when Skull suddenly  _ appears  _ from out of the darkness, unfolding himself like a great crane and once again coming to sit by him, not immediately reaching to comfort or stop his tears, instead letting Tsuna dictate what he wants. He’s dressed down - the leather and metal has made way for softer fabrics, and the skull face paint is gone. The tattoos look even more fearsome in the night, and crawling up into Skull’s lap, Tsuna can make believe for a moment that he’s being held by some great beast of the deep.

 

Skull holds him, humming and rocking back and forth in a slow sway. Tsuna sniffles and trembles, not wanting to go back to sleep and see blood and carnage again. Vaguely, he wonders where Iemitsu is, and why  _ he  _ isn’t here, rocking Tsuna and holding him as he tries to stop crying.

 

His throat is tight now, so words aren’t possible, but he taps Skull’s arm to get his attention, and then does his best to mime out ‘I’m sorry I woke you’. Skull tilts his head with a smile. 

 

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m an insomniac anyway. I wasn’t doing more than reading when I heard you.”

 

Tsuna lays his forehead against Skull’s chest, aware now of how warm the man is. He closes his eyes and listens to the humming song that meanders to and fro, not really having any words to guide it. It’s a slow, slithering song that’s almost… peaceful to listen to. Tsuna can feel his body beginning to calm, his breathing beginning to steady. He fights sleep, because he doesn’t want to see his  mother dead or feel her blood on his skin again.

 

“Hey,” Skull says, “It’s okay if you don’t want to sleep. You want to meet my octopus instead? He’s friendly, I promise.”

 

Tsuna’s look must not convey believability, because Skull laughs and says, “No, really!”

 

This is how Tsuna ends up meeting Oodako. His tank takes up an entire wall in Skull’s admittedly small room, and it’s filled with warm lights and plants and a massive water filter. At first, Tsuna doesn’t see anything resembling the creature on Skull’s body, and looks up at the man in question.

 

Skull grins, winks, and points. Tsuna turns back around, and promptly jerks back at the sight of a  _ massive  _ octopus pressed up against the glass where nothing had been before, watching him.

 

“Told ya he was here,” Skull chuckles. “He knows how to camouflage himself well. Hey Oodako, want to meet a new friend?”

 

Tsuna can’t stop his squeak when Oodako pulls himself up until he’s on the top of the tank, and then sticks one of his tentacles through the lid and down towards Tsuna. He also can’t stop himself reaching back - Skull laughs at the expression on his face when the tentacle carefully wraps around his hand and shakes it.

 

“Slimy, isn’t it? Took me a while to get used to it, too. But Oodako’s cool! He’s my animal partner.”

 

Tsuna doesn’t remember what time it is when he finally slips off to sleep. He knows he’s still in Skull’s lap, and they’re in front of the tank, Oodako watching them both with a contented gaze, his tentacle still wrapped around Tsuna’s hand while Skull tells him all the things he knows about octopi and their habitats. 

 

The nightmares don’t return for the rest of the night, and when he wakes up the next morning Skull is still there, reading a book in a rocking chair beside the bed. Tsuna sits up, scrubbing at his eyes. He still feels tired, but more than that he’s hungry. Skull bookmarks the page and turns his attention towards him. 

 

“Morning. So, scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, how are you feeling?”

 

Tsuna’s mouth twists. He holds up his fingers in a seven.

 

“Seven, huh? We can work with a seven.” He puts the book aside, and holds out his hand. “Breakfast?”

 

They’re good until they get to the door leading out to the hallway, and then they have a problem. Because Tsuna watches Skull open the door and is suddenly overcome with an intense desire to balk, and does so, ripping his hand out of Skull’s and diving into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He wedges himself between the toilet and the bathtub, terrified of going anywhere.

 

There’s no pounding footsteps to herald Skull wanting to know what the hell happened. There’s no voice asking if he’s okay. There’s a pause, and then a soft tap on the door. “I brought breakfast,” Skull says, as if things are fine and his charge hasn’t just locked himself in the bathroom. “It’s here on the dresser by the bed whenever you’re ready.”

 

He expects the food to have gone cold by the time he’s able to get his wits together enough to come back out. Skull is again sitting by the bed with book in hand; Tsuna darts a quick look towards the bedroom door, and finds himself relieved when it’s closed and locked again. He’s surprised to find the food still warm, hidden beneath a hand towel. 

 

“To keep it warm,” Skull supplies. He doesn’t look up from his book. “I forgot this place is still pretty new to you, huh. Sorry for spooking you back there. We can head outside when you’re ready.” The smile he directs at Tsuna soothes the lingering sensation of guilt. “Go ahead and eat. I need to brush up on my know-how a bit more before we get started with your lessons anyway.”

 

_ Lessons?  _ Tsuna lifts the towel. He finds another pastry like the one the night before, a mug of the same hit drink, a bowl of fruit, and another pastry that smells like peaches. He expects the sweetness of it all to make his stomach reject it, but he finds his nerves settling more and more with every bite he takes. The fruit goes first, followed by the pastry and the drink that he had the night before, and then the last one. He rips into it with a fervor that surprises him, and is almost sad when it’s all gone. 

 

“So,” Skull says, as Tsuna comes back from washing his hands and face in the bathroom and putting the towel and plate back on the nightstand. “I imagine you have a lot of questions about what’s going on around you. Why you’re here, what all this is, and such.”

 

Tsuna nods, knees folded beneath his chin. 

 

“Well,” Skull starts with a deep sigh, “It’s kind of like this.”

 

Tsuna learns that day that  _ mafia  _ is responsible for his mother’s death. That it was an enemy  _ famiglia  _ \- Family - that targeted Iemitsu, but when they couldn’t kill him they dug deeper instead. They found a weakness, and they went for that weakness. Except instead of reacting like the enemy expected, Iemitsu had ignored burying his wife in favor of kidnapping his own son -  _ Vongola’s last heir, the last blood tie to a legacy steeped in tradition  _ \- to Italy.

 

“And with that, we land here, with you and me.” Skull gestures to himself, and Tsuna. “I’m your protector, your safeguard against the outside world. They don’t know you now, but Timoteo and Iemitsu both intend for them to know you  _ soon  _ \- once you turn thirteen, you’ll be formally introduced as Vongola’s heir to their allies. You’ll be taught and trained as those before you were, and eventually, should everything go well and you live to make it, you’ll become Don Vongola.”

 

There’s a strange static in Tsuna’s ears, and he’s feeling dizzy. He puts his hands on the bed beside him to steady himself.  _ When did the room start rocking? _

 

“I know it’s a lot to take in right now, and I don’t expect you to agree to any of it,” Skull says, his voice beginning to sound like he’s talking through a tunnel. “Iemitsu and Timoteo didn’t want me telling you this until later, but knowing what’s going on around you is important in the mafia. I refuse to let you wind up dead because of their carelessness. So please don’t-- Tsuna?”

 

He’s tilting, he realizes. And Skull looks faintly alarmed, and is opening his mouth to say something, reaching for him. He faints before he can hear whatever Skull says next, his last thought being _Iemitsu got mom killed._

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

When he wakes again, for a long time all he can do is lay where he is. He feels once again robbed of breath, of thought. There’s something building in his chest that might be a scream. He wants to break things, but his limbs won’t respond to his thoughts.

 

When he catches movement at the end of the bed, it finally registers that Skull is sitting there, watching him with an understanding expression on his face.

 

“I’m sorry for laying this on you,” Skull says very softly. “If I could avoid causing you this distress, I would. But ignorance in this world is not a blessing. Please try to understand, though you are my charge, I don’t want you thinking I am a god. I can’t keep you safe from everything. Like it or not, there  _ will  _ come a day where you will have to defend yourself. It’s kinder to do this now, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

 

He reaches out, perhaps to help Tsuna up, perhaps to pat his head, perhaps simply to touch. It doesn’t matter, because all Tsuna feels when Skull does it is pure terror. Faster than even he expects, he smacks Skull’s hand aside, and throws himself as far back on the bed as he possibly can, heart pounding, ready to bolt.

 

Skull looks surprised for a brief second, and then it fades back into understanding. Always it comes back to that.  _ Understanding.  _ “Okay,” he says, getting up. He keeps his hands where Tsuna can see them, and backs away carefully. “Okay,” he says again. “Take your time.” And he leaves - not leaving the room, but going back to his own, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. Tsuna remains frozen on the bed, disbelief telling him that Skull is waiting for his back to turn before pouncing, waiting for an opening before he hurts Tsuna.

 

But logic is telling him  _ Skull is giving you space, he doesn’t want to scare you.  _ It’s a thin voice in the back of his mind, but it is there, and even through the haze of grief made anew, he still clings to that voice, because he can’t bear for anything else to be true. He’s lost his mother, his family, and he’s found out he’s surrounded on all sides by people who don’t genuinely care for him in the space of two days. He’s tired and hurting and he just wants it all to  _ stop. _

 

He cries himself to sleep, and when he wakes up later with nightmares, he muffles his screams into the pillows, and drifts back and forth between reality and sleep, jerking awake every few hours, sweating and crying and hurting in all the wrong ways. He thinks he yells for Skull at one point. But Skull doesn’t come out, and so Tsuna is left to face the night alone.

 

When morning comes, he’s too tired to react when a man dressed in a butler uniform comes in and opens his windows and blinds, when he lays a plate of steaming food on the bedside table and says, “Come along, little master.”

 

The man leaves for a time, and then returns. The food has gone cold, Tsuna not even making an attempt to get out of bed. The butler sighs. “Young master, please don’t be like this.” 

 

He brings Tsuna another plate, this one also filled with food and steaming. And just like the first time, he leaves and comes back to find the food gone cold, and Tsuna still in the exact same position as before. This time he purses his lips, but says nothing as he takes the cold food away. 

 

He does not replace it with another that night, and in the morning he comes and opens the window and blinds, and leaves immediately after. Tsuna is finally thirsty enough to go into the bathroom and drink out of the tap. He looks at Skull’s door, wondering if he’s in there, or if he’s left. The memory of the discussion comes back, and the urge to see the man fades. Tsuna returns to bed.

 

Hunger gnaws at his stomach on the third day, and he thinks about going out to find food. But he doesn’t know the first thing about the place, and he doesn’t want to wander blindly around. More importantly, he can’t speak Italian, and from what Skull has indicated, none of the others in the house speak Japanese as clearly as he does. Tsuna sleeps the day away, waking only to nightmares and sweat, and does not see the butler at all. 

 

By the fourth day, he’s barely able to stumble out of bed to get water. He’s tired, he wants Skull, wants  _ someone  _ who cares, but when he goes to knock on the door it’s a feeble knock, and nobody comes out. It’s silent on the other side, and locked - Tsuna goes back to bed and sleeps.

 

This time, he sleeps without dreams, and keeps sleeping even when morning comes. He finally does dream, but it’s a strange dream - he’s slowly falling down, down, and in the depths he can see a muted orange speck that’s fluttering like fire, getting smaller and smaller. Tsuna tries to reach out to it, but it’s so far away, and he’s so tired.

 

(He doesn’t realize it until later, but he is dying. The butler, thinking of him as a spoiled child rather than one driven by grief, thinks that with time he will come out and ask for food, and he will give the boy some only if he apologizes, to humble him. Skull has told Timoteo that Tsuna needs space to grieve for his mother, and so Timoteo sends him on a three-day mission, only telling the butler to help Tsuna out if he needs it. Iemitsu is too busy running around trying to keep CEDEF on top of the movements of enemies that killed his wife to think of a son he barely remembers.)

 

The dreams shift, and he is being carried, voices yelling once again like they’re in a tunnel, and then there are hands and electricity, and someone--

 

“ _ \--hree days--” _

_ “--know--” _

_ “--old you!” _

 

He hears a heartbeat, a pulse, and it’s soothing, friendly, and he sinks lower and lower towards the orange fire. It’s pretty the closer he gets, but not nearly big enough. Tsuna curls himself around the fire to protect it, watching as it sinks lower and lower--

 

_ “--losing him!  _ **_Do something!”_ ** That… sounds like Iemitsu’s voice. Is it Iemitsu that’s carrying him? He sounds hysterical, frightened.

 

_ “All of you,  _ **_move._ ** _ ”  _ And that is Skull, but it doesn’t sound like the gentle Skull Tsuna knows. His voice is deeper, and he sounds meaner. There are hands on him again, faintly, something pressing against his forehead, and then--

 

_ An invasion of Cloud spiraling towards the Sky that has fallen. _

 

Purple explodes in the darkness above him, and begins to descend. They look like little wisps of fire like the kitsune carry on their tails, but all of them feel like Skull. “Skull?” he murmurs. “M’tired.”

 

_ “I’m here. Tsuna? I’m here, can you--” _

 

“M’sorry I hurt you.”

 

_ “You didn’t hurt me, Tsuna. Can you follow me back now? You’ve gone wandering a little too far. It isn’t safe here.” _

 

Tsuna looks around. It’s nice here, though. Quiet. He tells Skull that, and feels the man flinch. The next words are said gently, almost carefully.  _ “Tsuna, you’re on the edge of life. You’re going to die if you fall much further. Do you understand? You’re dying, and unless you follow me back, you’re not going to wake up. You won’t see me again, or hear me.” _

 

Faintly, his mind finally registers the words. Dying? “But I’ll see Mom again.”

 

Skull’s fire flinches violently, and then feels… tremendously sad.  _ “No, Tsuna. You won’t. There’s nothing in Death - no afterlife, no peace. There’s just. An end. You won’t remember me, or know you’re dead. You’ll just be… gone. A candle snuffed out.” _

 

Oh. Oh. “You would be sad, if I died?”

 

_ “Yes. And Oodako would be too, Tsuna. So please come back, even if its only for us.” _

 

He remembers the octopus, and Skull, and while he doesn’t like Iemitsu or Timoteo, he  _ does  _ like the man that’s been kind to him, and the octopus that wanted to play, and so he says, “How do I go back?”

 

_ “Ah, you’re still so young, that’s right. Okay, we’ll do this instead. Find your-- er, find the fire. Orange. Hold it in your hands, close to you so it doesn’t fall.” _

 

It’s hard work, pushing himself upright instead of lying down, but he manages it, and gathers the fire close and says, “Okay.”

 

_ “I’m going to wrap you up in my fire now. It won’t hurt, so stay still.” _

 

The purple fire descends again, and there’s more of it now, so much that it’s almost blinding. It feels like he’s being scooped up, held close to something warm and soft and then he’s being lifted up. He closes his eyes. “M’tired. Can I sleep?”

 

_ “Not yet, Tsuna. Stay awake. I’ll tell you when, okay?” _

 

“M’kay.” He curls closer to the fire, and feels it almost ‘hug’ him. It feels like it takes forever for them to rise, it’s such a slow ascention. But at last he hears Skull say,  _ “Alright Tsuna, you can sleep now. And when you wake up, I’ll have something nice for you to eat. Okay?” _

 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He closes his eyes, and this time he can smell Skull, and feels the man’s physical presence looming over him. He can feel the fire inside himself, fed by Skull’s fire, slowly burning brighter and steadier. The fire engulfs him, feeds him, keeps him safe. There are other fires in the room, burning inside his father and an old man, and several doctors and nurses, but none of them feel like Skull. He is safe here, loved and protected, and so he falls asleep without thought.

 

_ (The Cloud lifts his forehead from Tsuna’s - he’s so small, so thin, so  _ **_fragile_ ** _ \- and turns burning eyes on Timoteo and Iemitsu and Crispino, who all flinch back from the Rage of a Cloud.  _

 

_ “Four days. Four days without food, with barely any water. I told you, I would take the job  _ **_only_ ** _ if you assured me  he would be taken care of. You failed that. He almost died not because of  _ **_me,_ ** _ but because of  _ **_you._ ** _ Because your arrogance once again reared its head. You are a failure, Don Vongola, and were I not the man I am, you would have murdered yet another child.” _

 

_ Timoteo’s lips pinch, but he does not fight Skull’s words. Skull’s gaze moves to Iemitsu. “And you were never his father. You only care about his legacy, his blood. Why the hell are you even here? Were you looking forward to seeing your dead child join his mother?” _

 

_ Iemitsu flinches, hands becoming fists. “I thought he would come if I called him,” he admits, softer than anyone in the room has ever heard. “His Flame came from mine, so I thought--” _

 

_ “He has never known another Sky, you imbecile!” Skull hisses. “He has only ever known  _ **_me,_ ** _ and even then my Flame is new to him. It’s a miracle he allowed me as much access as he did - had it been you, he likely would have fallen the last few steps away and died before you even finished the connection. Either be his father or don’t, but don’t try to do both.” _

 

_ At last his gaze turns to Crispino. “You thought him another Xanxus. Did it never cross your mind that he lost his mother - his one and  _ **_only_ ** _ connection, and he is grieving? He’s ten, you idiot. I told him the truth, and he pushed me away. I gave him space - space does not mean  _ **_neglecting him_ ** _ until he’s starving and can’t move. Next time, get to know your charge before you make brazen assumptions.” _

 

_ In his arms, Tsuna feels even smaller, lighter. Skull has to push back the parts of his Flame that twist and writhe, demanding he Rage and destroy those that tried to snuff out Tsuna too soon. He’s gotten attached - far too attached far too fast, that he knows. But he doesn’t care. This boy is his world, and he will do anything to ensure he lives. Even if that means drawing on parts of himself that haven’t seen light in  _ **_centuries._ **

 

_ “You’re all failures, every one of you. Vongola claims it can hold the Arcobaleno, provide bonds, but you can’t even take care of a  _ **_child._ ** _ What a joke.” _

 

_ The last barb drives home violently; Timoteo’s Flame jerks back, and the thin, fragile connection he’d been trying to build between himself and Skull snaps like a glass hitting the floor. Skull ensures Tsuna is tucked tight against him in both Flame and body, and goes to get him food and new clothing.  _

 

_ He will give him a new room, one built in secrecy so he can move around without prying eyes, and then Skull will begin his job of helping Tsuna learn to survive.) _

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

When Tsuna opens his eyes again, the world is different yet again. But his stomach no longer hurts, and Skull is here, reading a book by the side of the bed like he never left. The relief Tsuna feels at the sight of him is immeasurable, and in combination with the memory about their last conversation, he can’t stop himself hurrying to get out of bed. Skull catches the movement, and goes to bookmark the page.

 

“Well good mor-- _ omph!”  _ He grunts as Tsuna collides with his stomach, wrapping tiny arms around him in the best hug he can give. Tsuna buries his face in his stomach and does his best to force the words  _ I’m sorry  _ out of his throat. But once again words stick to the roof of his mouth like glue, and all he’s able to do is emit a low whine.

 

“Hey now,” Skull says gently, laying a hand on his back. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, yeah?”

 

Tsuna shakes his head, whines again, tries to  _ communicate.  _ He hears Skull hum.

 

“Is this about what happened?”

 

Tsuna nods.

 

“Hospital or before?”

 

Tsuna thinks, and then taps Skull’s side twice.

 

“Before that, then. Ah, you’re talking about when you pushed me away?”

 

Tsuna nods.

 

He hears Skull make a noise of amusement. “You don’t need to worry about that, alright? I get it. The world’s gone scary, and you’re not in any condition to deal with it. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to tell you all those things, but I’ve never been a big believer in waiting to tell people important things.” He rubs up and down Tsuna’s back, soothing him. 

 

“And for what it’s worth, I’m honestly sorry I left you behind, even for a little bit. Timoteo promised me he’d look after you so I could take care of a problem he’s been having, and it wasn’t until I was called back and made aware of the situation that I realized what was going on. That was my fault; you should never have had to deal with that.”

 

It’s nice to hear the situation spelled out like that; even nicer when Skull says, “Alright now, can you let go so we can go get something to eat? I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Plus, I need to show you around.”

 

Tsuna grudgingly lets go of him, and reclings himself as soon as Skull has him in his arms. Skull smiles down at him. “Alright, so you know how you were scared to go outside before? Well, you don’t need to worry about that now. Because,” and here he lowers his voice to a secretive whisper, “ _ We’re inside the walls themselves.” _

 

Tsuna stares at him in disbelief. Skull winks at him. “Lemme show you!”

 

And show Tsuna he does. The door opens up to a long, narrow passage, big enough for someone of Skull’s height to get in, but not a lot of girth. There are low-burning lights posted at intervals along the hallway, allowing Tsuna to see where they’re going. There are signs, too, and it’s at the signs Skull stops.

 

“So we,” he says, “Are in Vongola Primo’s Storm’s private study right now. A lot of the Guardians or bosses carved out little niches in the crevices when this place was built. And his Storm was rumored to be a mastermind, and a strategist to boot. That’s why he built this place. But across from us is Vongola Secondo’s Storm’s room, and through there you can get into the kitchens.”

 

The room isn’t much bigger than the one they’re currently in, but it’s certainly dustier and darker. Tsuna clings tighter as Skull confidently walks through, leaving clear footprints in the dust behind them. “And here we are,” he says, and reaches out to a section of wall just beneath the photo of a man, red-haired and scarred. He pushes it, and it falls back, revealing it as an actual unmarked door. “Ta-da! Pretty neat, right? We’re in the back of the pantry right now. As long as we’re quiet, the cooks shouldn’t hear or see us. There’s pockets all around that let us duck in and out that the chefs have never found. Or at least, have never said anything about. Now, what do you want to eat?”

 

It’s the coolest thing Tsuna’s seen in a while, and it helps him forget about what’s going on around him for a time. It’s when they’re heading back to the room, munching as they go, that he remembers the discussion he and Skull had about Timoteo and Iemitsu’s plans, about Tsuna’s mother. Skull must sense him sobering, because he nudges him gently. “Leave the big thoughts for another night. Enjoy the food right now. When we get back I’ll put a good movie on, and we’ll have a night in. Yeah?”

 

Despite himself, Tsuna can’t find it in himself to disobey. He nods, and forces the heavy thoughts that want to land on his shoulders away, focusing instead on the food. Skull makes them a nest of blankets and pillows on the bed, puts on a movie, and they settle down. At some point Tsuna falls asleep, comfortable and warm and content. 

 

Skull turns the TV off and closes his eyes, not truly sleeping, but dozing through the rest of the night. 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0

 

They develop a system of communication, him and Skull. 

 

Pencil and paper only gets so far, and taking the time to write things gets annoying after a bit. Tsuna doesn’t know Italian, so ISL is out, and Skull doesn’t know enough Japanese, so JSL is also out. 

 

Between the two of them however, they come up with their own signs and signals, and that is when Tsuna truly starts coming out of his grief, and learning. Skull tries to meet him halfway at everything, and after a point grieving just becomes exhausting. He misses his mom, and he hates Iemitsu for what he’s done, but Skull is warm and familiar and solid, and so Tsuna focuses on him entirely even as the world starts changing around him. They learn the signals, and then Tsuna starts wanting to move more and more, and he begins to actually explore the rooms in the secret hallways.

 

Skull for the most part lets him go by himself, only asking he leave the doors open as he goes, so Skull knows where to track if something  _ does  _ happen, and he whistle - and here the man teaches him how to whistle  _ loudly,  _ two fingers in the mouth that can be heard even through the walls - if something happens. 

 

“I’ll hear you for sure,” Skull tells him, the first time Tsuna signs  _ are you sure it's enough?  _ “Don’t worry. My hearing is especially good.”

 

It comes in handy, given his first venture out results in a close brush with death. 

 

He’s exploring the Secondo’s room, poking at little niknacks left behind, smiling at a tiny music box that still works, when he steps back and the boards under his feet give a very ominous  _ creak  _ of displeasure. A second later the support under that foot vanishes, and Tsuna falls back, scratching at air as he goes. He hits the ground and hears something  _ crack,  _ and pain shoots up his spine. He loses the air that he means to take to scream, and the boards holding his body up begin to sink as more creaking fills the air. 

 

_ “Whistle if anything goes wrong,”  _ Skull had told him. Well, now was certainly the time. Shocked and scared as he is, it takes him two tries before the air comes out in a shrieking whistle; the whistle falters halfway as the boards groan, leaning further in, and Tsuna has to take his fingers out to try to hold himself up.  _ I’m going to die,  _ he thinks, panic setting in as the boards keep leaning, and now the ones under his hands are starting to go too.  _ I’m going to die and Skull isn’t going to find me, and-- _

 

Hands snatch him under his arms, pulling him up with a fast strength and up to a familiar chest. Skull’s eyes are blazing as he tucks Tsuna close and Tsuna lets him; behind, the creaking boards have stopped since there’s no weight on them now, but Skull still backtracks hastily, eyes sweeping the ground. “Are you alright?”

 

The tears that come don’t surprise either of them, given what he just went through. Skull tucks his face into his neck and lets him cry and tremble as he needs to. He seats Tsuna on the bed when they get back, and holds up a finger before going to the bathroom. He returns with a warm cloth and kneels, brushing away tears and snot, then gently pinching Tsuna’s nose. “Blow,” he orders, and Tsuna does. Skull ruffles his hair, and has him do it twice more, until his nose is no longer clogged. 

 

“Y’okay now, kid?” he asks later, when Tsuna has spent a bit of time buried into his side. “Feeling better?”

 

Tsuna signs  _ tired, don’t really want to go back. _

 

“Yeah, don’t blame you on that one. Thank you for listening and doing what I told you to, though.”

 

_ Why did the floor collapse? _

 

“Because it’s old, and nobody’s maintained it in a while. Chances are there’s a leak that got in and rotted the boards, and you just stepped in the wrong spot. Now that we know where it is though, I can go take a look at it, and let Timoteo know--”

 

Tsuna tugs at his shirt, and Skull gives him his attention.  _ I want to do it,  _ Tsuna signs.  _ When I’m older. I want to fix the room.  _

 

“You do, hm? You don’t have to wait until you’re older though. I can teach you, if you want to fix it.”

 

Tsuna stares up at him.  _ You know how to fix floors? _

 

Skull snorts, meeting his disbelieving look. “Trust me when I say I’m a lot older than I look, and I know how to do a  _ lot  _ of different things. The question is, how much do you wanna learn?”

 

_ All of it,  _ Tsuna signs.  _ Teach me everything, please! _

 

“Alright,” Skull says, a devilish gleam in his eye, and a wicked grin crawling across his face. “But I want you to remember this moment later, when you’re whining about how tired you feel because your brain is so full and your muscles ache. Remember it was you that asked  _ me,  _ okay?”

 

Tsuna nods, smiling, naive to the fact he has just signed a deal with the devil, and Skull?

 

Well. He intends to collect in full.


End file.
